


It's not a codename, but it'll do.

by anti_ela



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti_ela/pseuds/anti_ela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief moment after a mission and before the next.<br/>/<br/>Okay.</p>
<p>Take a step.</p>
<p>One, two, stop:  and the door that cost five times her salary closed behind her. (Do you get leave pay while you’re dead? And who got her death gratuity? Will check later—they owe her a drink.) The lights were bright as ever, but something about the color was wrong. Shepard squinted up at them as the ship decontaminated her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not a codename, but it'll do.

Okay.

Take a step.

One, two, stop:  and the door that cost five times her salary closed behind her. (Do you get leave pay while you’re dead? And who got her death gratuity? Will check later—they owe her a drink.) The lights were bright as ever, but something about the color was wrong. Shepard squinted up at them as the ship decontaminated her.

How did it go? “The same and not the same.” Oh, well.

When the inner door opened (forgot to time it), a shout of “commander on deck!” welcomed her from somewhere near the cockpit.

Shepard made a mental note to shoot Joker later.

She strode to the elevator, taking in the crew with her peripheral vision. No one stopped her, so nothing must have happened. Since she had only disembarked an hour prior, she hadn’t expected anything.

As the elevator door hissed closed, she caught a whisper that’d been following her for months:  — _really her?—_

It’d be nice to have an answer.

She pushed the button for her cabin.

"Commander Shepard," said the ship. "I have collected all of the press releases related to your latest mission. Would you like me to upload them to your omnitool?"

"You’re not the Normandy," she said. "The real Normandy didn’t ask me stupid questions."

"No. I am EDI. This has been explained."

"Does it bother you that they built you to resemble something you’re not?"

The door opened, and she stepped into the hallway. The voice followed.

"I am connected to the ship, but I am not the ship. Your personnel file states that you are intelligent enough to understand this concept. If the chassis is the issue, it is likely that it was built to make you feel sentimental in addition to the more practical constraints of time, budget, and ability. Is that all?"

Shepard huffed, opening her door. “EDI, if you were human, I think you would have slapped me right there.”

"You are an inspiration to us all, commander."

She began the laborious process of stripping her armor. You’d think they’d make it simpler in two years, but if anything it was more complex. The alliance didn’t want its soldiers to die of bullet wounds, but Cerberus didn’t want its soldiers to get a cold.

She reached for her gun.

"Fighting with robots again, Shepard?" Garrus stood, arms outstretched:  it means  _I’m not hiding anything,_ it means _I’m not here to hurt you_.

"Everybody needs a hobby, Vakarian. Yours being sneaking into my room with—wine?" She let her hand fall. The small table held a few bottles and two glasses.

"It’s not really sneaking if you have permission. And, yes, wine. You humans don’t do everything wrong." Garrus reached out, trying to catch her hand.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." She stepped around him and settled onto the couch. "You gonna pour?"

Garrus’s fingers twitched closed, but he turned to the table. “Of course, commander. What kind of vigilante hero doesn’t train for a day like this?”

"You’re going to hold on to that for the rest of your life, aren’t you?"

He poured, and Shepard could tell from the color that it was probably too sophisticated for her palate. “It’s a lot cooler than being a C-SEC officer.” He handed her a glass.

"Is it cooler than saving the galaxy, asshole?" She took a sip, knowing she was missing all the subtle flavors.

He sat down, putting his arm around her. “Hmm. I was in charge, which makes it a little cooler. Plus, I had a codename.”

"That you gave yourself."

"I’m just more stylish than you are, Shepard. I don’t expect you to appreciate my genius."

She nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, I appreciate you.”

He looked at her with one of those my-commander-could-beat-up-your-commander-any-day looks. Like she’s special, important. Like she’s real. “I know,” he said. He did not kiss her.

She looked down. “Can I ask you something?”

"Anything."

"It seems like there are two camps. One, I’m a robot. Two, it doesn’t matter. So… which are you?"

"Oh, I’m in the third camp."

"Which is?"

"The one that thinks it wouldn’t take two years to program a Shepard, so you’re probably real."

"What?"

"It would take two, three months, max. Haven’t you seen the Shepard VI? They could totally build off that. ‘The galaxy is at stake. Fix the problem yourself.’ That sounds exactly like you."

"You are such an ass."

"True. But, you know, if you do turn out to be a cyborg, it could still work out. I mean, I overlooked your DNA twisting the wrong way. What’s a few chips?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. “Don’t ever change, Vakarian.”

"See, that would have been much more touching if you’d called me ‘Archangel’ there."

"You have a fetish."

"You love it."

"No," she said, kissing his scarred cheek, "but I do love you."


End file.
